


This Ain't a Scene, It's an Arms Race

by owltype



Category: JYJ (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-30
Updated: 2015-08-30
Packaged: 2018-04-18 01:32:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4687364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owltype/pseuds/owltype
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And in the morning, when he kisses Jaejoong before the car pulls away from the curb, headed for the airport, Yoochun will remember the way Jaejoong looked spread across the bed, the moon shining in through the window and painting his skin silver.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Ain't a Scene, It's an Arms Race

**Author's Note:**

> Just a thing because I wanted to write and I've spent too much time watching [THIS VIDEO](http://thatfunkytown.tumblr.com/post/127827222980/ilovekimjaejoong-video-from-jjs-farewell-party#notes). So...yeah.
> 
> Title is Fall Out Boy's.

Jaejoong has had six drinks to Yoochun’s two and Yoochun knows it’s coming, can feel the pressure building, like a storm.

“Chunnie,” Jaejoong breathes against Yoochun’s ear and all Yoochun can think is _fuck_.

There are cameras, damn it. Cameras everywhere: phones, surveillance feeds, the paparazzi squatting outside the door, waiting for the shot that’s going to make them the big bucks.

Jaejoong’s hands have slipped from his shoulders and have begun a slow descent down his chest, fingers stopping briefly to dig into the tattoo covering his left pectoral.

Yoochun understands: he’s upset, too. He doesn’t want Jaejoong to go. If he could, he’d take Jaejoong home with him and lock them inside forever. If he could, he would devour Jaejoong, drink him in, take everything he had to offer, until the only thing left was Yoochun’s name on his lips.

But not here. Not in front of everybody. Some things are sacred. Some things nobody needs to know.

A hand—not Jaejoong’s—touches his wrist and slips him a pair of keys.

“Go,” Junsu says simply and that’s all the prompting Yoochun needs. He grabs Jaejoong by the arm and tugs him out of the bar, pulling him toward the car.

“Where are we going?” Jaejoong slurs, hanging from Yoochun’s shoulder, lips too close to Yoochun’s neck and Yoochun is _burning_ and his body is throbbing but _not yet not here._

He all but throws Jaejoong into the passenger seat, runs around the front to get in on the driver’s side, and peels out of the car lot, tires squealing.

Jaejoong’s head lolls against the headrest and he pins Yoochun with a dark stare that he can’t see—focus on the road, _the road_ —but he can feel it like a weight on his skin, like a promise.

He makes it to Jaejoong’s apartment in record time and hand-in-hand, they run through the lobby and bypass the elevator for the stairs. They get caught up in the stair well for a few minutes, hands digging into each other and mouths hot and wet and gasping and biting. The sound of footsteps scares them away and they continue their mad dash, laughing.

Yoochun throws Jaejoong’s door open and tugs him inside, pushes him up against the wood and presses against him.

“You drive me crazy,” he says, voice rough with alcohol and exhaustion and all these fucking _emotions_ that have nowhere to go.

“Stop talking,” Jaejoong says and seals his lips to Yoochun’s and Yoochun is all too happy to oblige, would much rather do this than think, than brood on the knowledge that tomorrow this will be no more--two years, two years and counting, and will they be able to pick up where they left off, will things be the same?

And Jaejoong, bless him, _knows_ , feels the same way, shares the same fears. His kisses lose their desperation, and his hands move to caress Yoochun’s shoulders instead of dig into them. Slowly he pulls away and lets his forehead fall forward to rest against Yoochun’s, and they just stand there for a moment and _breathe_.

“I love you,” Jaejoong says quietly.

Yoochun holds him tighter and begins to walk backward, guiding them to the bedroom. He spreads Jaejoong across the bed and stares down at him, trying to decide where to start.

Jaejoong makes the decision for him and pulls him down for a sweet kiss that Yoochun melts into.

And in the morning, when he kisses Jaejoong before the car pulls away from the curb, headed for the airport, Yoochun will remember the way Jaejoong looked spread across the bed, the moon shining in through the window and painting his skin silver. He will remember the way Jaejoong’s eyelids fluttered in pleasure; how his mouth felt, wet and hot, around Yoochun’s sex. His gut will tighten when he thinks about the slide of skin against skin and the drag against that spot that makes him see stars. He’ll think of how, after, Jaejoong smiled, sweet and content, and fell asleep in his arms.

Yoochun will remember all of these things and through the hurt, he’ll smile and laugh because, although two plus years is a long time, it’s going to take him about that long to recover his bearings enough to survive another night like that.


End file.
